In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(83)

“Oh, and the girl was what? Collateral f*cking damage?” Mishca snapped, his finger trigger itching.

Viktor could show his annoyance with Mishca since they were of the same rank. “You only care because it was your shlyukha. Have you not gotten tired of being mezhdu eye nog?”

Before Mishca could fire a shot at him for that last remark, Mikhail snapped his fingers. “Your reasoning is of no consequence. The fact is there is a cop in the hospital and I doubt New York’s finest will charge anything less than attempted on him. Either your man asters for it or you will. Mishca, come with me.”

With his order given, Mikhail headed towards the door, but paused on his way out turning steel gray eyes on Viktor. “And the next time I learn that you have put a hit on anyone without my blessing. I will have your stars."





Chapter twenty-Seven:


The Interrogation


Through a one way mirror, Lauren stared at the man in the wheelchair, his wrists shackled to the metal table bolted to the floor. The last time she had seen him, he wore the arrogant smirk of a man that knew he was walking free, but now, his eyes were sunken, his skin clammy and gray, let alone the fact that he could no longer walk. Gone was his snide attitude, replaced with a fear so profound that his eyes couldn’t help but dart around the tiny room, like he felt the eyes on him. He was right, he was watching him, had been since Detective Rodriguez called her down, but the men that he truly feared most were not.

His attorney was seated next to him, and even he looked slightly nervous, constantly fidgeting with the knot of his tie or glancing down at the gold watch fixed on his wrist, leaning over in intervals to whisper in his clients ear. Ivan looked up at the glass, meeting her eyes. She knew he couldn’t see her, but she turned away anyway, rubbing the chill from her arms as she took calming breaths, trying to ignore the irrational fear she felt in her heart. The phantom feel of fists hitting her made her wince, but she forced herself to push those feelings to the back of her mind. Detective Rodriguez was in the room with her, arms folded across his chest. He reminded her of her mother’s favorite on screen detective. He had the same temperament when it came to the perps, but he was kind and considerate of the victims. He was worried, Lauren knew, about what was going to be revealed. Ross had told him about her father and he had drawn his own conclusions from that.

“Are you alright?” He asked after a moment of just watching her. “Do you need anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“You know, you don’t have to stay for this. I can tell you what he says.”

Meaning he would edit that speech, edit out all the details she needed to hear. Truthfully, she didn’t really understand why she was there. She knew that he had already confessed early this morning, but now he had more information?

There was a tightening in her gut as she turned back to Anatoly. She felt it, in her heart that what he was going to say would change everything she had ever known. She had begun to suspect them, Mishca and his family, that they knew something about her father. It was too late for her to walk away.

“Who is this, detective?” a woman asked stepping into the room. She wore wire-rimmed glasses, and a pantsuit. She had hair that was tied back into a tight bun, dark eyes that missed nothing, and the demeanor of a used to being in charge.

“This is Lauren Thompson, a friend of the Michigan detective.”

She arched a brow. “Wonderful. Why is she here, now?”

“I think it would be best if you spoke with our perp first.”

The woman glanced over at Lauren once more before exiting the room, seconds later, the door to the adjacent room opened…

***

Assistant District Attorney Margaret Thatcher was a woman that took her job very seriously. She believed in honor and justice, and in the last thirty years that she worked as a prosecutor for the state of New York, she had never had the misfortune of offering a plea deal to any lowlife that came into her courtroom.

Now, here she was, with only vague details about a man who was stupid enough to assault a cop, and wanted a deal for information presumably only he could provide. Margaret hadn’t wanted to hear what he had to say, preferring to just handle the open-and-shut case and never let him see the light of day again, but since Detective Rodriguez felt that it was worth her hearing, she reluctantly agreed, though she made no promises that anything would come of it.

Opening the door, ADA Thatcher stepping into the interrogation room, sparing a glance at the suspect, then shook the hand of his attorney, Roger Givens.

“Mr. Stonosky, you pled guilty to the assault with a deadly weapon as well as aggravated assault. What kind of deal do you expect to make?”

“I have information,” he said softly, as though someone other than present company could hear him. “About a murder.”

She took a legal pad out of her briefcase, hunting for a pen so she could scribble down a quick note. “And how did you come across this information?”

Roger cleared his throat, leaning forward to say, “My client will not be divulging anything unless he is granted witness protection at the conclusion of this meeting, as well as full immunity.”

Margaret smirked. “Please. Roger, you know as well as I do, the likelihood of that happening. Besides, you asked me to hear this. If you want me to give you anything, you need to tell your client to give me something to work with.”